


Hollow

by noo



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-17 23:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noo/pseuds/noo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A crew member from the Starship Enterprise returns to earth and deals with the fall out from the battle with Nero.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hollow

Back on earth. Back on solid soil.

Debriefing over. Mercifully it all took place up on the ship, before all were allowed to disembark and head back to the Academy and life as a student. Back to messages from families, desperate to hear news, talk to the heroes of the hour. Saviour's of the planet. Smiling for the cameras while feeling numb inside. How can one take the accolades knowing that one planet was saved while another was lost?

Not a physical mark on the Academy lawns to show that just weeks ago there was a drill in the waters of the bay. Walking across those lawns, now sparsely populated by black and blue academy uniforms, the occasional red as a cadet is summoned to an official meeting.

Up the steps of the dorm, eerily silent inside as I walk down the corridors. Is it the influence of the Enterprise, or is it truth, that they seem cleaner? No random notices pinned to the boards. A relic of older college times. Easier to send a message out to all student PADDS, but no, someone started the tradition to keep pinning up notices with little tear off slips with contact details, selling things, asking favors. Proving we are still students. They are all gone. None remain and that should have been a solid clue.

Standing outside my dorm room door. Just staring at that structure. Scared to open it and find reminders of... no don't think it . Just concentrate on keying in my code. What was it again? Seems so long ago that I last entered it. Remembering the mess the room was in as we both hurriedly dressed in our dress reds for the hearing. Laughter and admonishments, "I'll clean it later, promise," that were last said in this room. Deep breath and fingers remember the code long before the brain it seems. The door opens with a whoosh. Silent but roaring all at the same time.

Is this my room?

Look down the hall and back inside again. Code worked, same steps taken as always, yet it looks so... sparse. Step inside and pause. Door closes and I can see my small photo frames through the partition, no clothes on the floor, music player gone. All remnants of my room mate are gone. I rush over to the drawers and pull them open. My clothes remain. Theirs are gone. I kneel down to check under the bed. Empty. So strange. Weird.

Head back around the partition and into the bathroom. All neat. Too neat. Our room feels wrong. Too clean. Too sterile. I feel lost. I head back to my bed and sit, head bowed in pain and remembrance. The joy at talking to my family, touching solid ground, the brief respite from the pain of loss is gone. It has rushed back. Threefold... no threebillionfold at least. Vulcan, Human, Orion, Romulan, Betazoid, Deltan, Andorian - all races of the universe have been touched. None have been spared. Yet the pain I feel can not be shared. I want to share it and yet I also don't want to.

Tears fall and mark the floor and the black leather of my boots. I pull them off. I throw them to the floor in defiance of the order and neatness of the room. One stands, teeters slowly and then falls down to the ground soundlessly. Lies away from the other boot, not touching, alone, apart, silent.

I pull the tight bedsheets back, having to tug strongly the first three times. It was made too well, not by me or by... no, don't say their name. If you say their name it becomes real. They won't be coming back. The room is trying to tell you that they were never here. I slip under the covers and whisper for the lights to go out. I don't care that it is afternoon. I want the dark and the stillness. If it is dark I can't see the missing clothes and shoes, the trinkets and the proof that for a while I had a room mate, a friend.

I lie and stare up at the ceiling, hearing no noise from the girl's room to the left. This time of day, Delia was always playing some horrible music to 'help her study'. I taste salt and ignore it. If I acknowledge it, I don't think I will be able to stop.

But then there is a reminder. There was another presence in this room. I can smell it. I hurriedly rise from the bed, throwing back the covers and untangling my legs. I stand by their bed and I can smell them still. My hand reaches out and runs along the pillow, fingertips gentle on the surface. The trail from my fingers leaves a slight indentation, marring the pristine, crisp surface. I grab the pillow and bring it to my face. There is the smell, strong and uniquely them. I hurry back to my bed and back under the covers, pillow cradled in my arms. I curl on my side and face the pillow. Inhaling slowly; in, out, in... out...

I blink and roll over. Rub the sleep from my eyes and check the time. 0700. Memories come back; breath hitches and holds. The pillow is still there. I sit up in bed, holding the pillow tight. I am still clothed in my uniform. All creased now, but I have others. That is when I notice that it is gone. All gone. No more smell. No more physical memories. All that is left is what is in my mind and the memories of others. Cold comfort to families and friends and lovers.

I race to the bathroom and lean over the basin, retching. My tears mingle with the phlegm. There is nothing in my stomach for it to expunge, but my body is trying. I fight to calm it, to control, to ensure that I can perform admirably. I stare into the mirror and then strip. Run water to clear the bowl. How horrible to have the smell of them now replaced by vomit. They don't deserve it. Step into the shower and raise my face to the water. Water. Divine. Rare. Needed. I add more water to that which is already flowing from my eyes. Mingling and combining with the fresh water from the shower head as it escapes down the drain to be reprocessed and reused. Others today will wash their memories away using my tears. My memories will join with theirs, names will be said in the still of rooms and corridors and classrooms and minds. Mine will join countless others. We will remember them in our own ways, never to forget. So I send the one name to join the others and ready myself for the day.

"Gaila."  


**Author's Note:**

>  **Title:** Hollow  
>  **Author:** [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/nikki4noo/profile)[**nikki4noo**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/nikki4noo/)  
>  **Beta:** [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/clarrisani/profile)[**clarrisani**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/clarrisani/) and [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=aquila_star)[**aquila_star**](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=aquila_star)  
>  **Word Count:** 1,142  
>  **Rating:** G  
>  **Pairings:** None  
>  **Summary:** A crew member from the Starship Enterprise returns to earth and deals with the fall out from the battle with Nero.  
>  **Disclaimer:** Not mine, dammit!
> 
> Originally posted 25 August 2009
> 
>  **A/N:** This was written in about 15 mins last night when the evil plot bunny with the hammer of ideas bashed me over the head and said that this had to be written then and there. So I did. It has received a wee bit of a spit and polish from [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=aquila_star)[**aquila_star**](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=aquila_star) and [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/clarrisani/profile)[**clarrisani**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/clarrisani/) . The idea was based around my thoughts of what Starfleet and the Academy would have done in respect to the dead cadets and what effect it might have on those that survived.


End file.
